* * * * *
Sophia said she had left some things she needed back at the Long Branch and left right after dessert. Darryl had been oddly quiet throughout the meal and had taken his dessert to go, because Vidalia wouldn’t let him leave without it. His early exit might have been because of the amount of food he’d packed away. Holy Moses, that man could eat. Then again, Vidalia was a legendary cook, according to Uncle Bobby Joe. Sophia had figured he was just bragging at first, but the woman lived up to every bit of it and then some.
She felt happy as she drove back through town, over the now familiar streets, past the stores and shops. The decision she’d made tonight, to buy that house, to set up a medical practice there, to make Big Falls her forever home, felt right, all the way to her bones. An overwhelming sense of peace had settled into her the second she’d blurted the words to Darryl. It was right. She was where she was supposed to be. Life was good. She was going to be okay.
And there was something else going on too, something big. She was pretty sure she was falling in love with Darryl Champlain. Everything she’d wished for in her letter to Santa had come to her. There was just that one last bit on the list. He had to love her too.
For some reason her foot pressed down harder on the accelerator. She drove right past the park and on to the Long Branch. She needed to see Darryl.She parked right beside his truck in the back, used her keys to let herself into the saloon and hurried through the empty place. Chairs were upturned on top of tables and the whole place was in shadow. There wasn’t a sound until she headed up the stairs. And that’s when the soft strums of a guitar floated to her, the chords changed, and a rhythm seemed to take form.
And she heard Darryl, his voice, deep and little bit raspy, as he began to sing.
She believes in fairytales
She believes in magic
She believes that dreams come true.
All fantasy, but when I see
Those eyes of sparklin’ blue
Damned if I don’t start believin’ too.
She stood there on the stairs with a dopey smile on her face, her heart beating like a butterfly’s wings. Damn. Damn, life was good.
She forced herself the rest of the way up the stairs and stood outside his door, waiting to see if he would play some more, and when the silence stretched out, she knocked softly.
She heard his footsteps, heavy and even, and then the door opened, and he looked into her eyes and she looked right back into his. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her inside and right up against him.
Then he was kissing her, and she was kissing him back. She clasped the back of his head in her hands. He kicked the door closed, then slid both hands down her back and down to her thighs. He pulled her legs up around his waist, and carried her to the bed. They fell into it together, and she laughed as she started to unbutton his shirt.
“I heard you playing. It blew me away.”
“I just wrote it.”
“It’s good. It’ll win you another award.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll give credit to my muse.”
She smiled. “You mean me?”
“I mean you.” He stopped kissing her for long enough to gaze into her eyes. He looked worried, concerned, hesitant. He was about to say something she was sure she didn’t want to hear, so she lowered herself on top of him and resumed kissing his face. And they didn’t talk again for a long time.
Oklahoma Christmas Blues Page 24